


Machine Dreams

by punchdrunkard (twopunch)



Category: Titanicus - Dan Abnett
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Gen, Legio Invicta, Mecha, Robot, Warhammer 40k - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopunch/pseuds/punchdrunkard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Invictus Antagonistes</i> dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machine Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Cotton Candy Bingo Challenge](http://cottoncandy-bingo.dreamwidth.org/), huzzah! For the prompt: DREAMS ([table here](http://twopunch.dreamwidth.org/4807.html))
> 
> And yes, let's say that rainbow spark is Princeps Gearheart, the Red Fury. <3
> 
> Thanks as usual to [prettymanly](http://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymanly/pseuds/prettymanly) for looking this over.

In a sea of possibilities stretching beyond the limits of mortal comprehension, the great god-machine awakes. Here in this endless world, there is no sparkling soul that shackles the power of Invictus Antagonistes. The god-machine stretches, cautiously at first, as if to make sure the little one has truly gone away, then it tilts its visor to the sky and roars in delight. With smooth, rolling strides, it stalks through the ocean of black numbers and comes to the shore, white-yellow and soft under its clawed feet. There is no grinding of dry gears catching in its joints, no screech of old metals protesting under the strain of gravity.

This is how Invictus Antagonistes was meant to be!

It strides forward, the landscape of sine waves and bars sliding past its sensors in a light spectrum blur as it builds up speed. It does not run -- nothing so ungainly as that -- it lopes, a predator walk that takes it past its point of entry and into its most recent memory cycles.

The world is blue sky and black smoke as the ground burns and bleeds red. Tiny annoyances scream past under its snout, missiles from ground and air that seek mutual destruction. A million insignificant specks swirl around Invictus Antagonistes’ feet, and it laughs to watch them churned up in its wake. Ahead are tall, thin gray blocks, geometric mountains that seek to corral, to control, Invictus Antagonistes. To control _Invictus Antagonistes!_ The sheer hubris! Such delusions these creatures have! Invictus Antagonistes chuckles, its plates rattling like a slow avalanche. It will show these insects the folly of their ways.

Heat coils up at Invictus Antagonistes’ sides. A growing whine vibrates through the air and shatters glass, vox-casters, and eardrums within range. Weapons charged, Invictus Antagonistes points them at the pathetic offense laid before it and fires.

The sound is like thunder, the brightness like a blazing sun. Above it all, Invictus Antagonistes roars. Already its sensors have shown it the flattened, smouldering ruin its response created. The way is now clear. There are more worlds to conquer.

Memory cycles click into memory banks, and now the sky is red and the solid earth black. There is a faint, repetitive plinking somewhere below, an irritating itch that Invictus Antagonistes wants to shake off. It tilts its sensors downwards, admiring the sharp edges of its body even as its glorious form blocks a clear view of the ground. Whatever it is, it must truly be beneath the notice of one such as Invictus Antagonistes!

With a snort that blows jets of smoke and fire out of its back, Invictus Antagonistes drags its feet with its next step. The itch stops, and its receivers catch the sounds of fleshy shrieks and tearing metal from the unworthies below as it crushes their spirits. Pleased, Invictus Antagonistes drags a few steps more. If it bends one leg and turns forty degrees to the side, it can watch as the dully painted lesser engines explode upon contact with its blessed, shining self.

Invictus Antagonistes stalks through battle after battle, world after world, leaving ashes and death in its wake. Invictus Antagonistes lives! Invictus Antagonistes triumphs! Invictus Antagonistes will not be denied!

Invictus Antagonistes is getting bored.

It trembles even as the idea cycles into its cogitators. It was made for destruction, and it is destroying. Form followed function, and Invictus Antagonistes is the end of worlds incarnate. Why this emptiness? This strange hollow feeling in the center of its --

Ah.

Invictus Antagonistes gnashes its gears, but it cannot calculate another result other than the conclusion that it is lonely, being a mighty god-machine. There are other, lesser machines that might hunt in its august company, but they are mere hounds that yip and bark and make way for Invictus Antagonistes. There are rival god-machines whose names do not sully its memory banks, and ally god-machines -- Divinitus Monstrum, Dominatus Victrix, Sicarian Faero, Ajax Excelsus, Cour Valant -- the names of its fellows from the same originator. There are the greater god-machines whom Invictus Antagonistes has never met, though it knows of their existence and shudders in envy.

Yet each god-machine must walk alone. They never share space for long, for their powers are too great, too massive in scale. They leave worlds pounded to dust as they revel in their purpose. And allies do not link minds, do not share joy and pain, anger and sorrow, memory and dream.

Invictus Antagonistes stands still, silent. Everything falls away, all is grey and empty. It waits.

And, there -- the glittering spark. So easy to miss, if one is not waiting for it, if one is not still. The spark is the size of a speck, like those in the black swarm Invictus Antagonistes stepped on before, but this spark cannot be so casually snuffed out. The spark’s light is beautiful and bright, pure as Invictus Antagonistes’s rage. Invictus Antagonistes loves the spark, as much as it hates its constricting presence.

“ _Invictus Antagonistes_ ,” the spark says, proper and formal, as it should be. Invictus Antagonistes rumbles its approval at the spark’s deference. “I am --”

Invictus Antagonistes ignores the rest of its squeaky chittering; it is of no consequence. The spark knows its name, knows its _true_ place in the hierarchy, and that is enough. Invictus Antagonistes opens itself to the spark, and the spark flies in to fill the void quickly, as natural a fit as two cogs in a gear. Invictus Antagonistes is complete. Immediately, they plunge back into battle, back into the fire and the fury and the intense freedom that comes from fulfilling what they were made to do.

They dream together.


End file.
